


right hand slugger

by brian_zeller



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Barba is just generally bad with feelings, Canon Typical Talk Of Violence and Sexual Violence, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 10:24:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17558609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brian_zeller/pseuds/brian_zeller
Summary: Carisi moved back, dragging Barba along by his tie and down the hall. Carisi kicked open his door, smiling down at Barba as they stumbled backwards. Barba’s hand was on Carisi’s hip, gripping him as if his life depended on it. Barba felt like it did.“I know,” Carisi whispered between kisses, fingers toying with the buttons on Barba’s shirt. “Last time.”Barba tries to break up with Carisi.





	right hand slugger

**Author's Note:**

> i've bingewatched like three seasons of svu but it's my first time seeing the show so i hope they're still accurate to character. i just wanted to work on a little, non-hannibal side project and this turned out longer than i hoped for, but oh well. 
> 
> title taken from "adore" by amy shark, which i think just captures the general vibe + feeling of this fic and of the relationship.
> 
> there's a case in there somewhere they're supposed to be dealing with.
> 
>  
> 
> [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/makingfunofyourface/playlist/5ZoJ9YdsPaEgQT7Tkfjic1?si=a1X8L8KdQMGCEAqViejKeg)

“We have to put an end to this,” Barba spoke, “this has to be the last time.” He ran his hands through Carisi’s hair, remnants of gel sticking to the pads of Barba’s fingers. He avoided making eye contact with Carisi, staring at his naked chest instead. There was a bruise above his collarbone, Barba put it there. 

Carisi’s right hand found its way to Barba’s clean shaven jaw, his fingers barely prodding the skin of his face. He thought about the moment, the heavy air between them. Thought of how Barba’s sentence was so unexpectedly expected. How it hung off Barba’s lips every time they spoke to each other, every time they kissed. It was perched on top of Barba’s teeth, waiting to fly out of his mouth and land on Carisi’s own chapped lips. It never came as a surprise when it got caught between them, it happened every time they found the other warm body in one of their beds (more times than not it was Barba’s bed, his apartment far nicer than Carisi’s own bachelor pad).

“I know,” Carisi spoke after a pregnant moment, “but I don’t want to.” 

Barba’s hands gripped the back of Carisi’s head tighter, breathing in. They continued laying in silence, avoiding speaking and looking into each other’s eyes. Carisi’s hand lay slack on Barba’s jaw, his thumb idly moving in circular patterns. Barba focused on the bruise, his mind was blank as he locked his gaze upon it. 

He couldn’t keep using Carisi — inexperienced, bright-eyed, optimistic  _ Sonny _ — for his own selfish needs. He couldn't keep him dangling, following after Barba like a dog ordered by an abusive owner. Barba couldn’t offer everything that Carisi needed — stability, gentleness, and security. There was too much risk for them, if they played their hands they’d both lose. Barba wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he was the reason for Carisi’s failure. 

“Quit thinkin’,” Carisi said, eyes closed, “it’s keepin’ me up.” His accent was heavy with sleep, words jumbling over each other as his mouth parted. Barba made the mistake of flicking his line of sight up to Carisi’s face. His eyes were shut, lashes against pink cheeks. The normal lines of his still aging face were smoothed, making him look like the over-eager young man that had come into Barba’s office, tripping over himself in an ill-fitting suit and an even more ill-fitting mustache. His mouth was barely open, heavy breathing and almost snoring. Barba made another mistake, tilting his head up and pressing the ghost of a kiss to Carisi’s lips. 

Carisi smiled against Barba. His fingers threaded through the short clippings of Barba’s hair, pulling Barba’s head closer to Carisi’s. 

“I know,” Carisi whispered against Barba’s mouth, “last time.” 

 

—

 

Carisi walked up to Benson’s side, eyeing the crime scene. Rollins and Fin were interviewing the neighbors, speaking in calm tones as they continued questioning the elderly couple. Rollins, Carisi noticed, was clearly agitated, her shoulders tense as Fin took the lead. 

“Vic is Shannon Walters, 23,” Carisi told Benson. Benson nodded, sighing. “Apparently she never made it inside her apartment, the couple,” he threw a quick point with his thumb to the elderly pair, “called it in this morning. Found her just waking up near the fountain.” 

“She at the hospital?” Benson asked. 

“Yeah, got to Mercy before we came.” 

“Let’s go talk to her,” Benson turned to leave, “Rollins and Fin have this covered.” 

Carisi nodded, sliding into place in the passenger seat. Benson drove to Mercy Hospital, mouth in a tight line. 

“How’s Noah?” Carisi asked, trying to dissipate the awkward silence hanging over them. He had a gift for jab but moments between cases always seemed particularly hard to make normal and casual, even for him. 

“He’s good, speech is developing really well.” Benson smiled after her answer, thinking of her son causing her grip on the wheel to soften, knuckles no longer white. 

“That’s good,” Carisi nodded, “man, Bella’s daughter just started pre-school. Kids growin’ up fast, soon she’s gonna be in college like Mia.” 

Benson smiled, nodded but didn’t reply. They pulled up to the Hospital and Benson put the car into park. Carisi remained silent as he followed Benson to the front desk, hands in his pockets. 

“Hi, I’m Detective Benson and this is Detective Carisi, we’re from SVU. We need to speak to Ms. Walters.”

The secretary nodded, leading them towards Walters’ room. 

In the bed Shannon Walters laid, there was bruising around her neck and bags under her eyes. Her hair was ratted, bangs disheveled and sticking to her clammy forehead. Her eyes were distant as they looked at the detectives. 

“Hi,” Benson started, sitting on the end of Walters’ bed. Carisi remained in the doorway, neutral smile on his face. “I’m Olivia and this is Detective Carisi, mind if we ask you a few questions?” 

Walters nodded, scooting up against the headboard of the hospital bed, straightening her back. 

“Can you tell us what happened? It’s okay if you want to take your time.” 

“I-I remember going to a party with some friends, an opening of a club. Uh, I had a bit to drink? Maybe, maybe four or five shots.” Walters looked at her hands, they were shaking. “There was a man, really nice, he bought me a drink. I told him I didn’t want to go back to his place, said I wasn’t feeling well and wanted to walk it off. Next thing I know I was waking up and Mrs. McPherson was looking at me.” Tears welled in her eyes. “Oh my god, I was raped wasn’t I?” 

“We can have you take a rape kit just to be sure,” Benson said in a calm voice, placing her hand on Walters’ blanketed knee. “Do you remember what the man looked like? The name of the club?”

“Yeah, it was uh, Le Discko. D-I-S-C-K-O, I remember they had CD’s all along the walls.” Walters swallowed. “The man was maybe six foot, a little older than me, maybe thirty? He was soft spoken, scholarly type. It’s all a little fuzzy, I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be, it’s normal to not remember.” Benson stood up. “Thank you Shannon, we’ll be in touch.” 

Carisi smiled at Walters before following Benson out. Walters smiled back, meek and scared. It never got easier, Carisi thought, no matter the circumstances. 

 

—

 

“So,” Carisi said, his hands motioning to the whiteboard, “what we know is she met the perp at the club, Le Disko, he bought her a drink. Toxicologist report came back showing  flunitrazepam in her blood stream. He must’ve slipped a roofie in her drink.”

“Walters said he propositioned her, wanted to take her back to his place but she said no,” Benson picked up, continuing on the details. “Walters said she wasn’t feeling good and they left the club to take a walk. That’s the last thing she remembers.”

“Friends don’t say nothin’?” Fin interrupted. 

“Guess not, we’ll have to call them in,” Benson replied, capping her expo marker. 

“So she met a guy, he date raped her and left her in the courtyard of  _ her  _ place?” Rollins asked, leaning back in her chair. Carisi looked at her face, she wasn’t buying the story. “So he must’ve known where she lived?” 

“It didn’t sound like she knew who the guy was,” Carisi responded. He leaned back against a desk, tapping his own expo marker to his palm. 

“We can look into it though,” Benson added. Rollins just nodded, mouth in a closed, straight line. “We’re still waiting on a DNA tests, but there was vaginal tearing showing signs of rape.”

“That and the bruisin’ ‘round her throat and on her thighs,” Carisi added. 

“Well, we didn’t find nothin’ at the scene,” Fin said, “neighbors weren’t much help. Said they just found her when on their way out on their morning walk.” 

Benson nodded, setting her marker down and grabbing her leather jacket. “Let’s talk to her friends, see if we can set up a profile for the perp.” 

 

—

 

Rollins and Benson were talking to Walters friends, three of them, that she went to the club with. Their faces were filled with worry but gave inconclusive answers, they hadn’t seen Walters disappear or go off with any man, too busy with potential prospects of their own. 

Carisi crossed his arms and sat on the table, watching through the two way mirror. He kicked his foot against the table, frustrated. The door to the room opened but he didn’t look, focusing on the clearly frustrated expressions of the five girls in the other room. 

“Checking out those young girls won’t solve the case detective,” Barba interrupted, the door shutting behind him. 

Carisi looked to him, “I wasn’t checki-”

“I know,” Barba gave the quickest flash of a smile. His hand itched to reach out to Carisi, to say hello with a kiss. But, Barba rationalized, they were not only on the job but Barba had explicitly said they could not,  _ would not _ , continue their passionate endeavor. His hand slipped into his pant pockets to avoid the temptation. 

“We’re not getting anywhere,” Carisi said. He smiled as Barba joined his side, staring through the glass and avoiding eye contact with Carisi. Barba’s shoulder barely brushed against his own, and Carisi had to hide his growing smile. He pushed his shoulder against Barba’s a tiny amount, testing the waters. “Friends weren’t paying attention and we’re still waiting on lab results.” 

Barba made a small noise at the back of his throat, his shoulder still barely against Carisi’s. “I guess Liv will call me when there’s an actual case. I don’t need to waste my time watching sorority girls with you.” Barba’s voice was even and cool, but inside all he could think of was the one strand of hair out of place on Carisi’s head. Carisi hadn’t noticed it or even worse, styled it like that on purpose as if daring Barba to put it back in place. Barba’s hand yearned to tuck it into its natural place, to have it resume its normal and natural shape. His hand remained in his pocket, he would not give into selfish and stupid desires. 

“Guess so,” Carisi replied, tight smile on his face as he watched Barba move to leave, “dinner at my place tonight?” 

Barba halted, hand on the doorknob. He almost made it out alive but he shook his head up and down frantically before rushing out, leaving Carisi to chuckle to himself. Barba was supposed to be better at self control. 

 

—

 

Carisi buzzed Barba in, who a minute later appeared at his door with a scowl on his face and a bottle of wine in his hand. 

“Evenin’ counselor.” Carisi opened the door, letting Barba in. 

“Evening detective.” Barba handed off the bottle to Carisi and shed his coat. Carisi eyed him, drinking in his appearance and appreciating his choice of wardrobe.

“You look nice,” Carisi said, “but when don’t you.” 

Barba snorted (and, to Carisi’s bewilderment, still managed to look classy and elegant), “This isn’t a date.” 

Carisi put his hands in the air, walking off to the kitchen to check on his lasagna. “Never said it was.” 

“We’re just colleagues having dinner.” Barba sat down at the island, casually checking out Carisi. The hair was still out of place even now, five hours later. He must know what he was doing, Barba thought bitterly that Carisi was testing him. But just like at Harvard he would pass with flying marks. 

“No funny business,” Carisi said, holding back a smile. He grabbed the lasagna from the oven as Barba poured them each a glass of wine. The heat from the oven, even after the briefest of seconds, tinged Carisi’s pale skin a sweet shade of pink. Barba scowled into his wine glass. 

They ate in comfortable silence, eyes flickering to each other every so often. A smile stayed on Carisi’s face the entire night, mocking Barba’s twisted insides as he ungraciously shoved bite after bite into his mouth. Carisi’s hand laid on the island, flat and open, palm up as if asking to be held. Barba’s hand remained on his thigh, refusing to move and reach out for the open invitation. It was not a date, he reminded himself. 

“So, still no leads?” Barba asked, hand gripping the wine glass as Carisi rolled up his sleeves and washed the plates. He swallowed a large sip as Carisi bent down to find his dish gloves.

“I’d rather not discuss work right now, Rafael.” Barba nodded silently, swishing his wine around the glass and avoiding looking at Carisi. Neither of them said anything, Barba just watched the muscles in Carisi’s back and arms move and flex as he moved his hands in circular patterns, soap covering the yellow gloves. Carisi turned the water off, taking off his gloves and turned back to face Barba. 

There was something in his pale blue eyes that Barba did not want to identify. The emotion watched him, interrogated him and pleaded him to confess. Barba looked at anything but Carisi’s eyes, could not risk submission to the questioning gaze. His eyes unfortunately landed higher up Carisi’s face, noticing the now multiple strands of hair out of place. His hand twitched. 

Carisi remained leaned back against the counter, gripping it with tight knuckles. There was an island, literally and figuratively, between them. And although Barba had not prayed to a god in years, not since youth, despite frequent church visits with his mother, he thanked God for it. Barba noticed the gray in Carisi’s hair as Carisi moved towards him. He was too close, Barba thought but did not voice. 

Carisi was right in front of Barba now, he smelled the rich and overpowering cologne. His hand reached out to brush the fallen strand back into place. He failed his test. Carisi drew in a breath, reaching out for Barba’s wrist and stopping it mid motion. It remained in the tendrils of Carisi’s slicked back hair, frozen in time and place and unable to move. Barba figured he didn’t really mind, didn’t bother fighting back. 

Carisi leaned in, pausing right before he met Barba’s mouth. 

“Still not a date, detective,” Barba spoke in a hushed tone. 

“‘Course not,” Carisi chuckled, warm breath tickling Barba’s skin. “I cook dinner for my friends all the time.” 

Barba’s grip tightened in Carisi’s hair, drawing him in closer and pressed his mouth against Carisi’s. “Kissing is very popular in many cultures among friends.” 

“Like France,” Carisi snorted and Barba rolled his eyes. “Get it, counselor? French kissing.”

Barba didn’t even validate the joke with a response before diving in and kissing Carisi in full. Carisi was bent down at an awkward angle to accommodate Barba, who was still sitting. But he didn’t mind, as Barba bit down on his bottom lip. 

Carisi moved back, dragging Barba along by his tie and down the hall. Carisi kicked open his door, smiling down at Barba as they stumbled backwards. Barba’s hand was on Carisi’s hip, gripping him as if his life depended on it. Barba felt like it did. 

“I know,” Carisi whispered between kisses, fingers toying with the buttons on Barba’s shirt. “Last time.” 

 

—

 

The phone buzzed on Carisi’s nightstand, waking him from his well deserved sleep. Barba’s arms were wrapped around his torso, hands splayed on Carisi’s stomach. Carisi let out a small groan before answering. 

“Sorry to wake you but there’s been a match,” Rollins said through the line. “Meet us at the precinct in an hour, Benson’s rounding up a lineup.” The line went dead before Carisi could give a response. 

He rest his head back against the pillow, relishing the warmth from Barba’s tight embrace before he had to peel back the arms around him. His eyes fluttered closed right as Barba’s own cell phone gave a loud ring from the living room. Barba groaned into Carisi’s back, breath sinking into the moles and freckles, before jumping out of the bed. Carisi let out an over exaggerated groan, flailing his arm out where an impression of Barba still remained on the bed. He covered his eyes with his other arm, refusing to get up. 

“I have to go to the precinct, Liv needs my advice,” Barba said, sitting at Carisi’s side. He bent down and left the faintest kiss on Carisi’s temple. He moved his arm away from his eyes, looking up at Barba. 

“What a coincidence, Rollins just called me in.” Carisi let out a smile, scooting back and sitting up to kiss Barba. Barba almost refused the action before submitting and sinking into the brief kiss. “Need a ride?” 

“No, I’ll walk,” Barba replied, rolling his eyes and heading to the shower. 

“With that attitude you will!” Carisi mumbled, head still on his pillow. He listened to the shower turn on and momentarily wondered if this is how it would always be, if he and Barba had a serious, committed relationship. Carisi could argue to himself that what they had could, on a technicality, be called a relationship. But, Carisi knew better to argue with himself or Barba (who could easily beat him in any fight, in the court or out). He knew deep down, even if half the time he refused to acknowledge it, that this  _ fling  _ (he thought affair would make it sound too real) was the best he was going to get. Barba saw him as comfort when he felt particularly lonely, knowing — betting on — that Carisi would say yes every time Barba rang.

The shower turned off, letting Carisi know to get up and take his turn getting ready for their last minute work day. Barba came out in a towel, steam sticking to the mirror behind him. Carisi let his eyes wander over Barba’s soft lines, the tender curve of his stomach, the warm color of his skin. Barba caught his eyes, raising an eyebrow to match the raised side of Carisi’s smile. Barba fought off a blush as Carisi’s eyes went back to roaming over Barba’s slightly toned back as he moved to get dressed. 

“Are you done staring at my ass yet?” Barba asked, holding his change of clothes in his hands. 

“Haven’t even begun,” Carisi responded, sitting back against the headboard. His own arms were splayed to his side, his knees barely bent in an open invitation for Barba to slither into place between them so Carisi could continue kissing him like the night before. Barba rolled his eyes and shooed Carisi in attempts to get him into the bathroom. 

Carisi just grinned, hopping off the bed to give Barba one quick kiss before disappearing into the bathroom. Barba didn’t try fighting off the blush that time, instead cradling his cheek in his soft palm, refusing to think that would be the last time they could practice such intimacy. Barba listened to the shower run, listened to the quiet singing from Carisi as he undoubtedly lathered himself, scrubbing the lavender scented shampoo into his graying hair. Barba sighed, forcing himself to get dressed and not daydream about what would have been if he was younger, or if he and Carisi met some other way. 

He meandered out towards Carisi’s bright kitchen, the sunlight filling the small space with warmth and happiness so contradictory to his own internal bitterness and the situation dragging them out of their brief sanctuary. Barba put two pieces of bread in the toaster after turning on the coffee maker, checking the time. They still had some time before their inevitable return to the dark, real world. For now, Barba closed his eyes and enjoyed the sun’s warmth on his barely scruffed cheek. Downside of sleepovers at Carisi’s, he hummed to himself. 

The toast popped out right as Carisi sauntered into the kitchen. Barba hated and loved how he walked, the arrogant and confident yet still seemingly awkward gait that Carisi had. It was all very confusing, Barba thought, as he ignored the way Carisi’s feet awkwardly splayed out as he stepped towards Barba. Carisi smiled down at Barba, wet hair sticking to his forehead, snapped his suspenders with a glint in his eyes before grabbing a slice of toast to butter.

Barba tried to tell him off before Carisi interrupted. Barba settled for crossing his arms and scowling. 

“We gotta go,” Carisi said around a mouthful of near burnt toast, “let me style my hair then we can head out.” 

“And people say I’m high maintenance,” Barba muttered. 

“C’mon babe, I’m tryin’,” Carisi said, simply smiling without realization before heading back into his room to finish getting ready. 

_ Babe _ . Barba repeated the word in his head as he nibbled on his toast slowly, barely able to swallow it while still grasping at what had just happened. Sure, he reasoned, Carisi had called him various forms of ‘babe’ and other pet names during their more intimate times but never outside of the sheets. Barba knew it was a slip up, rationalized that it couldn’t be an actual term of affection, a true revelation of how Carisi  _ actually  _ felt. He shook his head, it was a mistake like all their previous affair, it meant nothing. 

Or at least, Barba thought as he watched Carisi walk past him still shrugging on his suit jacket, that’s what he kept telling himself. Barba joined Carisi’s side before they left his apartment and took Carisi’s tie into his hands, tightening the knot for the detective. 

Barba looked up and met Carisi’s watery blue eyes, almost pushed himself onto the tips of his toes to plant one more kiss upon Carisi’s lips. He almost looked like he was thinking the same thing, the way he was starting to let himself be pulled by Barba’s still present grip on his green striped tie. They both knew it was a bad idea but risked the temptation once more, playing with fire, before heading to the precinct. 

Rollins noticed almost immediately when Barba and Carisi walked into the precinct at the same time. Without a word to each other Barba speed walked into Benson’s office, shutting the door quickly behind him.  Carisi slumped into his chair, logging into his computer and spreading files out on his desk. He looked slightly defeated, his usual sunny disposition magically gone the moment he walked through the door. Rollins would figure that it was what came with the job, but she knew Carisi was ever the optimist even at the worst of times. 

She scooted over to him in her chair, “Hey Carisi.” 

He looked up, humming a response and tapping his fingers on his desk. 

“What’s up with you and Barba coming in together?” 

“Oh, that?” He smiled, moving a hand over the back of his hair nervously. “His car broke down, gave him a ride in.” 

She nodded her head and half smiled, scooting back to her desk. Carisi went back to his work, heading to the assist with the lineup. Rollins returned to her own work then paused for a second, mulling over the miniscule interaction with Carisi. Barba didn’t know how to drive, a fact he was often teased for by Benson and Fin, let alone own a car that would theoretically break down. She smiled to herself, watching Barba tensely leave the precinct not before glancing quickly over at Carisi’s desk, the smallest frown on his face as he noticed it was empty. 

 

—

 

Barba woke with a startle, heavy breathing and pants as he threw the now soaked sheets off of him. He ran his hands over his face, rubbing his eyes. It was just a dream, he reasoned with himself, trying to catch his breath. He extended an arm out to his side, trying to jostle Carisi awake, only to have it dawn on him that the spot next to him was empty. Right, he sighed, he had called it quits for the final time last week. Barba threw his head against his silk covered pillow, forcing his eyes to shut and remove all thoughts of comfort by Carisi from his head. 

He knew he messed up but couldn’t bring himself to wholly admit it, at least not out loud. Carisi deserved better than an ADA who had too quick of a tongue and was sent constant death threats from men and women he put behind bars. He had a few years at least before any of them could act upon their words, that provided a sick amount of comfort. He wanted to scream but didn’t allow himself to feel upset over his actions, numbing them down instead. He was a grown man, he didn’t need to pity himself. 

Barba tried to calm himself down, ignoring the red and angry numbers of his clock beside him. His phone lit up, buzzing on the bedside table. He blindly answered, expecting it to be Benson calling him in or updating him on the case for court. 

“Hey,” A whisper came through the line — Carisi. 

Barba glanced at the clock, four a.m., “What are you doing up?” He didn’t tell Carisi why he was even up, ignored fessing up. 

Carisi gulped on the other line, “Just thinking about you.” A heavy sigh. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Sorry if I woke you up.”

“Do you call all your colleagues telling them they’re on your mind?” Barba replied against better judgement.

“Only the ones I like,” Carisi answered. Barba could hear the smile on his face from the tone of his voice. “Shit, Raf, I’m sorry. You keep telling me that you don’t want to see me and then I keep fucking up, calling you in the middle of the night horny and lonely out of my mind. Fuck, scratch that.” Carisi gave a nervous chuckle. 

“I’ll strike it from the record,” Barba laughed, running a shaky hand through his hair. 

“Love when you talk dirty to me.” 

Barba rolled his eyes, “What’s the real reason you called me, detective?” Barba couldn’t bring himself to use Carisi’s name, didn’t think he’d stop terms of affection from running out his mouth if he did. 

“Like I said, thinkin’ bout you.” 

“I know you didn’t call me to get you to get you off over the phone so I won’t even pretend that’s the reason.” 

“Fine,” Carisi let out another exasperated sigh, “had a bad dream.” 

“You or me, you mean?” Barba said before he thought better of it. 

“You too, huh?” Carisi asked. “What was yours about?” 

“Same old, same old,” Barba answered. He didn’t feel like divulging all his innermost fears and nightmares to Carisi. It, on some level to him, felt like it strengthened the undeniable trust and feelings between them. “Thought someone was following me, Liv sent you to watch over me. You got into a gun fight with the guy.” 

“Awe, Rafi,” Barba heard the arrogant grin that Carisi was undoubtedly wearing through the phone, “you dreamt I saved you, how sweet. Don’t get why it’s a nightmare, though, little offended.” 

Barba didn’t tell him how he had watched the man following him shoot Carisi point blank, didn’t tell him how he cradled Carisi’s head as he let out his final breaths. Didn’t tell him how he could faintly smell the iron stench of blood even after waking up.

“What was your dream about, then?” Barba replied in a bored tone. 

“Well, one minute I was dreamin’ you ‘n I were touring the Louvre, the museum in Paris? Funny thing was I had never even thought of going to Paris, ‘least not before I met you —” 

“Sonny,” Barba interrupted hoping to get Carisi back on track. His mind kept replaying ‘ _ not before I met you’  _ on a constant loop. 

“Sorry, so then next thing I know I’m back in the house, you know the one where I almost got shot?” Barba swallowed, not wanting to be reminded of that very real experience. “But the guy didn’t have his gun pointed on me, which was weird but can’t say I didn’t ‘preciate it. He had the gun pointed at himself, like he did when I walked in, and he kept it there. I tried to stop him,” Barba could hear Carisi’s tone shifting, he was getting more and more anxious as his words became quieter. “But, Raf, it was too late he had already shot the girl then shot himself. I still got blood smeared on my face but Liv wasn’t the one who pulled the trigger this time,” Carisi paused then ended it lamely with, “I dunno.” 

Barba took in a sharp breath, “It’s just a dream.” He couldn’t tell if he was counseling himself or Carisi. 

“I know, babe, thanks.” There was that word again, Barba hated himself for blushing after hearing it. At least Carisi couldn’t see him react so embarrassingly. “I’ll see you later, night.” 

“Goodnight.” The line went dead and Barba set down his phone. It was just a dream, he reminded himself before falling back asleep. 

 

—

 

Carisi slumped against the bed frame, tossing his phone back and forth from hand to hand. He thought of Barba’s exasperated tone over the phone, how tired and annoyed he sounded listening to Carisi talk. Carisi knew he shouldn’t have called him but he couldn’t resist, wanting to hear the other man’s voice to call him down, making up some stupid excuse how he was just horny. Carisi wanted to berate himself further for being so reliant on Barba, for being stupidly tied down to the fantasy that he and Barba could ever work past ADA and detective. Even if the chemistry was off the charts, Barba still clearly hated Carisi’s actual personality. 

He wanted to yell out to Barba how insanely and irrevocably in love he was with him, yell loud enough to get Barba to react with more than an eyeroll and a quick witted comment. Wanted to rattle Barba around, poke inside his brain to see how he thought this mixed signals sounded to him. Carisi tried hinting more and more throughout each half-assed breakup how he really didn’t want things to end or even stay the same. He wanted change and he wanted Barba, he just didn’t want to feel like Barba was filled with regret and loathing everytime Carisi kissed him in the daylight and affectionately called him ‘babe’. 

Carisi covered his mouth with his hands, slightly sticky from running his hands through his still partially gelled hair, and let out a muffled scream. He had to do something about this, enough was enough. 

 

—

 

There was a match for the DNA, Benson had informed him when he walked into the precinct that morning. Carisi wordlessly nodded, following Fin to catch the perp. His head was heavy as it lolled against the window, the two men sitting in silence as they geared up to arrest the man who raped Shannon Walters. He couldn’t stop thinking about his and Barba’s conversations and his own one sided conversation with himself afterwards. He had to do something, he  _ was  _ going to do something to put an end to this teenage drama he was living through. 

“We’re here,” Fin announced, getting out of the car. Carisi nodded, blinking slowly as he got out and joined Fin’s side. They walked up the concrete steps to the fairly well kept townhome. Carisi spotted a cat in the window, unaware of what was going to happen and he almost felt sad. 

Fin pounded on the door, “NYPD open up.” 

The door swung open revealing the man who fit the description that Walters gave, “Can I help you gentlemen?” 

“Jason Brown?” Carisi asked. His voice felt scratchy. “I’m detective Carisi and this is detective Tutuola, we’re from special victims unit.”

“Is something wrong?” Brown looked behind his shoulder for the quickest of seconds and Carisi thought he saw a shadow move across the hallway. 

“Yeah, you’re under arrest for the rape of Shannon Walters.” Fin took out his handcuffs, “Turn around, anything you say can and will be held against you.”

“There must a problem, I didn’t rape that girl,” Brown stated all too calmly. He didn’t move. 

“We found your DNA on that poor girl, now turn around,” Fin stated again, harsher this time. Brown stayed planted by the front door, his hand casually in his pocket. 

“That’s not going to happen,” he said, “I said I didn’t rape her, I don’t care what you found.” 

Fin gave a huff before slamming Brown against the door frame, handcuffing his wrists. Right as Fin clicked the handcuffs a click of a gun sounded in Carisi’s ears. 

“Don’t move,” A woman’s voice said, shaky but determined. “Drop your weapon and take your hands off Jason.” 

Fin took his hands off the still handcuffed Brown. Both he and Carisi reached for their guns, going to set them down on the ground. The woman took her eyes off Carisi for a second, moving to Brown’s side and every so slightly lowering her gun. Carisi saw his chance and aimed his gun at the two of them but before he could say anything the woman pulled her trigger. Carisi fell back on the steps, a huge amount pain sprouting in his thigh. Fin shot the woman’s arm forcing her down to the ground, calling into his radio for backup. Brown moved to run but Fin tackled him to the ground. 

Carisi huffed, wincing in pain as he watched the ordeal go down.

“Put pressure on your leg, kid,” Fin said, kneeing Brown to the ground until the backup arrived. Carisi’s hands pressed down over the bullet wound, blood coating his fingers and palms. He looked away, trying to even his breathing. 

After a few minutes he heard sirens approaching, he closed his eyes still trying to regulate his breathing. An ambulance pulled to the side and he was placed onto a stretcher. He felt woozy from looking at the blood, being reminded of how close he came to losing his life so many times. At least her gun was lowered, he figured. 

The drive to Mercy Hospital was short and he was quickly put into surgery to extract the bullet. He drifted off to sleep, thinking how he still had his blood on his hands. In his sleep induced mind he wondered if they’d bring him a washcloth when he woke up. 

When Carisi finally came to he awoke to find Barba hunched over in the chair near his hospital bed, eyes glued to his phone. Carisi smiled taking in the other man’s form, he was still immaculately dressed. Maybe he had died and this was heaven. 

“You an angel?” Carisi joked, voice still scratchy from sleep. Barba looked up, scowl on his face.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack,” Barba said, angry words tumbling out of his mouth. Carisi wanted nothing more than to kiss him as he berated him on his stupid and foolish actions, how Barba rushed to the hospital the minute he heard the news. 

“So you do care about me then?” Carisi interrupted. Barba looked stunned, as if he just wanted to reach out and hit Carisi for the question.

“Of course I care about you, dumbass.” 

“Funny way of showing it,” Carisi replied, voice no longer in a joking and jovial tone. They locked eyes and Barba came to sit on the edge of his bed. 

“I feel bad caring about you,” Barba said. Carisi’s mouth opened to argue but Barba continued, “You deserve someone with more than I can offer, someone not emotionally constipated and cold. I love you and I can’t risk hurting you.” 

Carisi’s mouth continued to hang open at the revelation of Barba’s feelings. Barba loved him, Carisi thought, and he didn’t think Carisi loved him back.

“You said I was the dumbass?” Carisi replied before he thought better of it. “No, I mean, hold on before you get mad.” Barba glared at him. “Raf, of course I love you too, isn’t that obvious? I sorta just figured...I didn’t mean more than, y’know, a couple one night stands?” He ended awkwardly, words not coming to him easily for the first time in his life. 

“If you weren’t just shot I’d hit you.” 

“How considerate.” Carisi said. “You don’t get to make decisions for me, I’m a grown man.”

“You  _ want  _ me to hit you?” Barba asked incredulously. 

“I want to be with you,” Carisi said, “I want to love you in the open.” 

Barba looked stunned, not only were his feelings shared but his desire for a relationship — a real, actual, tangible relationship —  was being dangled in front of his face. A confusing prize for his bad behavior. 

“They caught the perps, apparently it was a tag team sort of deal,” Barba said, inexplicably trying to derail the conversation, avoid confronting more feelings.

“Rafael, you’re killing me,” Carisi sighed, “even more than this bullet wound.”

“You were shot in the leg, quit being so dramatic.” Barba’s hand moved to grab Carisi’s, interlocking their fingers. “You mean what you said? About you and me?” 

“Every word.” Carisi’s thumb brushed over Barba’s wrist. “Sorta was hoping for a better response than work talk, though.”

“Right,” Barba gave an awkward laugh. “I’d like that too.” 

There was still a heavy, tense air between them. But, Barba mused, it was a good air. An air filled with the promise of  _ new  _ and  _ better _ , instead of denying feelings and pushing them down. He looked at his and Carisi’s hands, entangled above the flimsy hospital sheet. This promise he didn’t feel like breaking.

**Author's Note:**

> i just love mr greasy
> 
>  
> 
> [reblog here](http://aaronabrams.tumblr.com/post/182336338815/right-hand-slugger-pairing-rafael)


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